My Take

Pokes and prods

There’s nothing interesting on this “idiot box”. What is the point of it? I mean, if you are writhing in pain, you should atleast have good cable. 

What an odd place. I have been here countless times in my life. Always playing the role of a concerned daughter, sister, friend or well wisher. Never the star lead in this medical drama. Untill now, that is. Twenty three and first time in a starched white bed, being poked and prodded by people in blue scrubs every few hours. I wonder if they even register the flinch of a face when they sink a sharp needle into your flesh. Or do they just switch off the humanity button when they clock in. 

Back to the  lack of proper entertainment. The TV has local channels in blurry design blaring out election news and primary poles. International channels are busy speculating on 3rd World War (nuclear edition) breaking out, courtesy of one man who possibly could hold the title for “most spontaneously destructive tweets ever”.
Truly, lying here I would appreciate some quality programming, as opposed to such dry barrage of political undertone. Also, the Wi-Fi “sucks”. Actually, if it did that, it would probably have more juice. 

So this lack of distraction forces me to ponder on my predicament. Endlessly buy bundles and google symptoms. As well as sleep. Much needed sleep. This lack of distraction also makes me think of how I don’t care enough about my health. Case in point, regular trips to the fast food watering hole – and very rarely to the world of weights, sweats and naked show offs. But perhaps that’s the point of the bad TV. Get back out there and eat right, exercise, no more shirking gym day, no more than two trips a month to Art CafΓ©, etc, etc. Or maybe they just didn’t feel like paying for the whole bouquet of channels because that would mean adding an extra fee on the already astronomical room rates. 

Hospitals!